


true north

by cassleia



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Romantic Fluff, gratuitous romanticization of trust, reduced age gap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26106733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassleia/pseuds/cassleia
Summary: By now she was the most familiar being by a long shot. He knew her inside and out, and he could, after all these years, confidently say the same about her. They had overcome so much to be together that it was only fair to attribute some of this to her. After so long, that familiarity meant everything to him. Leia was the warmth that cut through his darkness. She was home.Building home is personal, something neither one truly thought they'd be able to do again and yet with each other the possibilities begin to open up
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Leia Organa
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	true north

Cassian marvels at the fact that her love is so freely given, it constitutes a risk, a vulnerability he thought for so long he couldn’t afford. Even after the war, his mind spins with the many ways this could be used against them.

His love is the same. Far from being a storybook romance, they had fought tooth and nail for where they are now and come out all the stronger for it. Their pasts had often been a point of contention, one they’ve since thoroughly addressed. But now, as he watches Leia at work his mind begins to wander once more, taking a bit of a different direction.

The more times begin to settle, the greater the pull is to think of his family. Of what he’s long since lost. 

He wonders what his family might have thought of a Festan rebel boy and a Princess of Alderaan. There is hardly a purer symbol of the Republic they had fought against than a Princess turned Senator. 

But then, there was a difference between the Princess of Alderaan and Senator of the Imperial Senate and Leia Organa. It might have taken a moment to wrap their heads around, but Leia could charm anyone with who she truly was. Or maybe the effort wouldn’t be necessary, the elder Organa had been the first member of the Republic whose visit to Fest hadn’t turned bloody and violent.

His father, well, he can’t be too sure what the man would have done, wasn’t afforded the chance to truly know him. Still, he thinks the man might have offered a begrudging smile, more behind her back than before her face. With more time he could have offered gruff advice and acceptance into their world. He would have loved her fire, the push that sustained her during the darkest of days. 

Cassian imagines what his mother might have done with more ease. She would have offered a warm embrace without asking, any judgments kept to herself at first. She would have asked about a million questions, ranging from the surface level to ones that he might have had to cut off for being too invasive. Her eyebrow raised in silent approval upon realizing that Leia knew her way around a blaster might have elicited a grin from him. 

His sister would have offered an easy smile, and he can imagine the way the two of them would have ended up teaming up on him. He likes to imagine that they would have gotten along, though the thought hurts, shards of lost memories twisting in his chest. 

He can imagine the teasing jabs from his cousins. For a moment, Cassian loses himself in the memories. Cassian’s early life had been marked by strife, but it had also been marked by warmth. Raucous laughter almost as much as harsh whispers. People could be counted on to cycle in and out of the Andor home. That was the difference, of course, times may have been difficult, but they had been together, and that had somehow made it all worth it. 

That had been before. Before the Republic had killed his father. Before the Empire had killed his mother. Before so many of his family’s smiles had all but disappeared, only hardened lines and wrinkles born from worry left in their place. Before the billowing smokestacks had coated Fest’s atmosphere. The snow, once pristine and sparkling now sat a dull, deadly grey. 

That had been before Cassian had known what it was like to kill a man and watch as he fell, but not before he had known the feel of a blaster in his hand. Back when he had still been learning about the injustices perpetrated by both sides of the war on principles that had been too complicated to wrap his head around at the moment. 

He still tried, tucked tightly in his bed with Mari perched on the edge. Even then she had always seemed ready to take flight, gesturing wildly with her hands as she grew more and more heated. Cassian had admired her once upon a time. Still did if he allowed himself to remember her. 

Cassian knew he had been watched closely upon first joining the Alliance. They couldn’t afford to be picky about who they allowed to join, a side effect of being an anti-government revolutionary group intent on overthrowing the current leadership. That didn’t mean that trust was as easily extended as mission assignments. 

In a way, Cassian was lucky Fest hadn’t been on many Rebellion radars. If it had been, being the son of two of the most instrumental players of that movement would not have been well seen in a movement that had grown out of the opposite side of that war. No matter that the movement on Fest had seamlessly transitioned to oppose the Empire. 

In reality, the Separatists hadn’t been any more culpable than the Republic for the war and the rise of the Republic. Both sides had been played by the only man who held the full deck of cards. 

Privately, Cassian still found the host of criticisms towards the Republic to hold merit, the technicolor memories of countless rages against the Republic still painted across his eyelids. Openly he would support it until the greatest evil they were facing was eliminated. 

Thoughts of the Alliance pull him back to the present moment, to the drag in his chest, the one he feels in his very soul. At the very least, Leia was just as committed to rebuilding this society as he was. Even more than that, the Alliance was her father’s legacy, just as the Festan revolution had been his. 

The princess was so different than he was, despite all her insistence that she was nothing more than him. Her gilded upbringing hadn’t been a cage, instead, it had allowed her to fly. 

Leia was everything he was not, graceful as if it came naturally to her, even if she had confided that it did not. She was quick— quickwitted, but quick to anger as well. She wasn’t quite so quick to forgive, always loath to admit when she was wrong. 

Cassian wouldn’t admit it for fear of upsetting her, but the more inconsequential anger was almost endearing. The furrow of her brow and set of her lips that told you when she was about to go off on one of her tangents. 

By now she was the most familiar being by a long shot. He knew her inside and out, and he could, after all these years, confidently say the same about her. They had overcome so much to be together that it was only fair to attribute some of this to her. After so long, that familiarity meant everything to him. Leia was the warmth that cut through his darkness. She was home. 

Leia finally looked up from her datapad, only to find his eyes waiting. He couldn’t say how long he had simply been watching her, neglecting his own work. She raises an eyebrow “Where did you go off to this time?” she asks, the inquisitive look oh so familiar. 

The smile that had been only a slight curve of his lips grows, he can feel the spread across his face, as well as the increasingly familiar warmth of fondness. He doesn’t quite know how to answer her question, silent for a bit before he finally settles on “Home,” the word rolling around his tongue, unfamiliar. 

“Home?” she echoes, the tilt of her head almost reminiscent of the magnificent birds found in the Yavin jungle. She pushes her datapad aside and twists on the bed to fully face him, quickly picking up on his introspective mood. 

Cassian nods, beckoning her back over to the bedroom. If they’re going to have this conversation it might as well be in a comfortable position. 

After the war, once they had finally settled into a routine together, Cassian had taken to laying with his head on her chest as they spoke. The steady thrum of her heartbeat proving beyond all else that she was alive. Leia didn’t need the physical reminder, not when she could reach into the life force surrounding everything. 

She opens her arms to him now, casually offering affection that Cassian can’t shake the feeling of scrambling for. 

Some of Mon Mothma’s wartime musings turned interview fodder after the war ask what soldiers who have only known war do when the war is done. He knows, or rather, he’s heard that the original was written about him. 

It isn’t exactly a surprise, but even now, a few years out from the war, there is more than enough to occupy him. He supposes that this is what a man like him does when the war is over; pick up the pieces and attempt to find home. 

Maybe this was what Princesses turned Generals turned possible Senators did when the war was over as well. 

Now that they’ve settled, Leia is looking at him inquiringly once more. He doesn’t ask whether she’s thought about home. He’s held her through more than her fair share of nights where she’d woken gasping for breath, the blinding light of the explosion still freshly painted on her eyelids. 

They’ve spoken of home and what it means. Cassian has shown her the holos of his family he’d painstakingly saved. Each knows the deep-seated scars on the other's heart as intimately as their own. 

Cassian bites the inside of his cheek, not wanting to seem as if he is placing too much weight on these concepts. “What do you think of when you think about home?” he asks, sitting up to face her, as loath as he is to do so. 

Leia’s brow furrows, and he can almost see the gears begin turning. “Why?”

“I want to-” he begins, his mouth beginning to go dry, “Leia when I think of home, of course, I think about Fest still, some part of me will always call that home, but even before that...” he swallows thick around the emotion. 

He is still learning how to allow vulnerability, even with her. “Before that, I think of you. I’m not asking that you do the same,” he assured her. He knew Leia had many more places she could call home than an apartment on Coruscant that, frankly, both of them hated. It isn’t that he doubts the depth of her feelings, not after all this time, but she is pulled in so many directions that sometimes he wonders where her compass points. 

It was because of this that Leia’s next move surprises him. There was a beat of silence in which his fears are given room to rise before Leia tilts his face up with a gentleness that most people wouldn’t consider in line with her brash nature. "Do you really think that I don't care for you in the same way? I chose you, Cassian. Even when it wasn't the easy choice to make. Especially when it wasn't an easy choice. I chose you and I would do it again. Can you at least trust that?"

Cassian wouldn’t have been looking at her in any situation other than the one at hand. Her palm, barely pressing into the curve of his jaw, was magnetic. He nods, the steel in her eyes is more convincing than any words, though her command of them has always been impressive. “You know I trust you, Lei,” he whispers, his voice more hoarse than he’d expected. 

She softened at that, losing the harsh lines as the hand at his cheek slipped down to his neck. “Yes. I know you do,” she agreed lowly. Leia’s kiss still thrilled him as if it were the first time, though he was more than glad that they were here, now. 

Getting lost in her was far too easy, and it brought them to now, with Leia lying across his chest, tracing nonsensical patterns into his skin as both their breathing steadied. Cassian cards his fingers through her disheveled hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before sitting them both up. 

* * *

Come morning, Leia’s side of the bed is still warm as Cassian forces himself up to follow her. He slips to the front rooms silently. Moving without a trace is second nature by now.

He stands in the doorway for a moment. Watching her pad around the kitchen for tea was something surreal. The faded Alliance issue sleep shirt is much too large on her, and the collar slips to her shoulder. She looks almost divine moving around the kitchen, still shaking off the sleep present in her movements. 

Cassian didn’t feel as if he were dreaming quite so much these days, if only because his dreams too often took on a darker turn than a still half-asleep princess wandering their home. It wasn’t quite natural, but he no longer felt as if he were fitting a square peg into a round hole. 

Was this peace? Cassian wasn’t quite sure, though he remembered the sharp aroma of caf that he’d never quite taken a liking to, the spiced scents of food simmering in the moments of relative quiet between meetings or battles. He’d seen it in the momentary kindness of strangers, sun glinting off the snow, and in the way the blur of hyperspace dulled everything for just a moment. Maybe peace was what they made of it, Cassian thought, not so much a state of living, but an active choice to seek it out. Of course, this peace was much easier to come by now, when the battles raging had mostly quieted.

It was what was left in the wake that proved their next test. 

The apartment was temporary, and much more Leia’s than Cassian’s. It was temporary as too much in his life had been. Temporary, much unlike this relationship, built on solid foundations and only built on from there. 

“Are you just going to stand there all morning?” Leia asks without turning. This is something that still takes getting used to, even more so knowing that she senses him even if nobody else would have heard him approach. 

He huffs a laugh, “How would you eat if I did?” he teases gently, stealing a kiss as she presses a mug into his hand. They switch spots, Cassian moving to the stove and Leia to sit and watch from the counter. 

“I’ll have you know I’m perfectly capable of finding something,” she replies, false petulance filling her voice. He can’t see her with his back turned, but he can imagine the exact expression she is wearing. 

Cassian closes his eyes as he pulls out a cutting board, with the scent filling the air and her voice in his ears he can almost pretend they are different people. The aches that built up over the years fade away until this moment is all that’s left. 

He’s abruptly brought back to the moment when Leia speaks up once more. “When are you heading out again?” 

She has grown used to him cycling in and out, though the stretches of time he is home have grown increasingly longer. Before, she had even grown used to him heading for uncharted reaches of the galaxy without so much as a word as to where, let alone a timeline. He hates that she has, wishes he could give her something more stable though he knows she would shoot down the thought instantly. She has always been a moon to him, letting him go when necessary, but always drawing him back in with her tide. 

“I’m here for a few weeks yet, we’ve been making good progress. Local leaders are being appointed and the rebuilding has gone... as well as possible. With any hope, they’ll have centers of their own within a few months.” This is the end goal of course, that even the most affected systems will hold their own leadership. 

The idea of appointing Rebellion leaders had been floated, but it had sat extremely wrong with Cassian and he had made it known. It was Leia’s vehement refusal that had tipped the scales in the end, her silver tongue convincing Rebel sympathizing Senators to join her just as she had once sweet-talked Imperial ones. 

“Well you know what they say, Republics are built on hope,” Leia says, twisting his age-old phrase for the current situation. It worked, there was work to put in of course, but to a certain extent, they were operating on hope. 

The silence hung in the air, comfortable as the familiar aromas filled the air. Cassian took long sips of his tea in between movements so familiar they didn’t require thought. There was a permanence about it, more than the grand moments, the quiet in between showed that they were lasting. 

Passing the first plate to her, Cassian would never tire of the gratitude Leia showed. She was grateful even when things should have been a given. “Enjoy, amor.”

He gathers his own food and took a seat, linking their ankles under the table. The steady offer of contact was something he didn’t know if he would ever be quite used to, it was these simple acts that made his heart clench with how much he loved this woman. 

Leia offers him an unguarded smile, reminiscent of the ones a Princess had given on the Alderaan terrace lifetimes ago. “I always will, Cass,” she says, placing her free hand in the middle of the table. Her mug has long since been drained and interlacing their fingers isn’t a hindrance for either. 

Conversation over breakfast stretches over both of their work, Leia’s rages against certain colleagues that she cannot say in most other places, to updates on their friends or shared acquaintances. The end of the war had left many wondering what came next and it has been gratifying to see most people find their way. 

Leia finishes her breakfast and comes around the table to kiss his cheek before placing dishes in the sink. The domesticity is awe inspiring and Cassian finds the thought that has been circulating his mind at the forefront. 

When she returns, Leia takes a seat at his side, inching her hand ever closer to his still half full mug. It has become a norm for them as they slip into a routine together. 

Cassian catches her hand as she makes to steal his mug. “Marry me?” 

Leia’s face cycles through a range of emotions in seconds. “Cassian I-” she begins, expression flitting halfway between uncertainty and something even Cassian can’t pinpoint. “The work’s not done.”

For a moment, Cassian fears that he’s spoken too soon. Their conversation about commitment from last night still swims in his mind. He turns to her and knows in that moment that he’s made the right decision. 

He knows Leia, he reminds himself. It isn’t uncertainty in him that’s reflected in her eyes, but rather in the preparedness. Cassian slides his hand up to her shoulder “Will it ever be?” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to hers. “Mi alma, I think it’s time.”

Her eyes are closed and she stands on her toes for a kiss, cups his face before she speaks. “It would be my honor, Cassian.”

Every bit of the anxiety that had flooded his system is released in that moment, “Well then princesa, we might start planning.” The old nickname isn’t a common one anymore, but there are times where it feels most appropriate, here, beginning to take the next step in their journey, it feels like the only thing that fits. A connection to the past that might have hurt at one point, but reminds them both of how they met. 

Leia pulls back enough to truly look at him, reservations gone as the smile reaches her eyes. “I suppose we might,” she says, looking him over once more. “It might be nice to see everyone together for once,” she muses. Neither one of them would want anything ostentatious, but there were certain expectations that had to be met even after so long. 

Cassian smiles at her, for once it crosses his face without the weight of the past, without guilt, and without exhaustion. 

They are something solid, building off of each other into something new. 

The Princess and the spy

The leader and the soldier

The politician and the Rebel

They are all of these things and so much more. They are the hope that lights the way when nothing else reaches. They are individual and they are one, and in the new order of the galaxy, they have been granted the opportunity to simply be Cassian and Leia. They move forward, never losing their pasts, but perhaps they can build a new home.


End file.
